


Til Tomorrow Comes

by ficwriter103



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-02 07:04:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8655286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficwriter103/pseuds/ficwriter103
Summary: Credence thinks Percival wants sex. Percival does, but he’s also horrified that the boy even knows what that is.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Ezra Miller I'm so sorry when you inevitably click this, j_gabrielle and I think you're adorable, please come to Malaysia. 
> 
> Anyone else, this is your friendly reminder that you probably shouldn't do this in real life!

It happens in the blink of an eye. One moment, Percival is cupping the back of Credence's head in the rain, their bodies pressed together. The next, Credence is sliding to his knees, fingers pulling Percival's belt through the loops.

 

In the scant few seconds where Percival has a hard time processing what is actually happening, Credence's mouth is already hot and wet against the bulge in his pants.

 

Later on, much later on, he realizes that it wasn't really arousal at first, merely a reaction to the cold and the wet and perhaps too long without human contact. But Credence had taken it to mean something else, a demand for reciprocation.

 

_And how he reciprocated._

 

The rain drowns out his gasp and his moan when Credence opens his mouth wide and swallows him down. The boy casts his gaze upwards, searching Percival's face for cues and indications. His mouth is stretched around Percival's girth, pink from where he had bitten it earlier. The raindrops slide down his face, drip off the ends of his long lashes. Percival groans and pulls his coat tighter around them for a little more privacy.

 

He should probably stop, he should probably tell the boy that this isn't needed, that he needn't use his mouth in this way but oh Morgana the way the boy curls his tongue around the base, presses the flat into the slit, the hollow of his cheeks when he sucks, the look of pure concentration on his face, Percival gives in to the temptation.

 

When Credence takes a deep breath and presses forward, Percival can't help himself. His fingers find the short hairs on the back of Credence's head, holding him steady as he shudders through his climax.

 

The whole thing must have only taken ten minutes, at most. Credence sits back on his haunches, rain running down his chin as he quickly tucks Percival away and does his pants back up. He even buckles the belt properly. The young man is soaked completely. His trousers must be uncomfortably wet by now. But Credence doesn't say anything about any of that. His Adams apple bobs up and down once as he swallows deliberately. Then he quickly wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, gaze planted on the cobblestone. He reaches out to the walls of the alleyway and steadies himself as he rises.

 

Percival's brain catches up with him as he sinks back down into reality.

 

"Credence," and the young man looks worried "Where did you learn that?"

 

"Here and there?"

 

Credence says it like he's trying to guess the correct answer.

 

"How long have you known how?"

 

It makes Percival uncomfortable, the way Credence actually looks down and considers his fingers in an attempt to count the years.

 

"Before Mother took m-"

 

Percival shuts his eyes.

 

"Credence, you were ten when you were taken from the orphanage," Percival reminds him gently.

 

The young man thinks about it for a minute, then nods slowly.

 

"I used to do it for food."

 

He says it so guilelessly, like he doesn't understand what's so wrong about his answer.

 

"Should I not have done it?" Credence frowns, a troubled expression taking over his youthful features. "Mother caught me once when I was trying to get bread and she said it was deviant. I'm sorry that you're caught in my deviant-ness, Mr. Graves."

 

"No!" Percival nearly shouts. He regrets it immediately because Credence flinches away.

 

"I mean, you don't just do that for anyone, but at the same time, I -" Percival struggles to find the words. " - I enjoyed it."

 

Credence looks relieved.

 

He opens his mouth, but whatever he wanted to say next is interrupted by a violent sneeze.

 

Percival doesn't think twice about grabbing his arm and apparating.

 

 

\---

 

 

Credence stumbles when they appear in Percival's flat. He straightens in a hurry, taking in his surroundings with the wild look of a cornered animal.

 

Then, as quickly as his panic appears, it is reigned in and contained.

 

"Go get dry." Percival points to in the direction of the washroom.

 

Credence obeys without another word, leaving drops of water in his wake.

 

Percival sinks into the nearest chair and cradles his head in his hands.

 

Of all the things he expected to happen today, finding out that Credence had been turning tricks since his stay in the orphanage is definitely not on the list. Credence is timid, shy, naïve in many ways. It was hard to think that the same boy willingly sold himself on street corners _in exchange for bread_.

 

Percival has to be honest. He has entertained many thoughts of educating Credence in the pleasures of the body. He has daydreamed about slowly taking the boy apart with his hands and mouth, making him whimper and moan with newly discovered heights.

 

There is something alluring about the idea of being his first, being the one to corrupt him and teach him. Slowly tainting his innocence sounds like such a great idea at first.

 

But _since_ the orphanage?

 

No, there is a line and someone had crossed it too early.

 

Some degenerate had not thought to keep their hands _off_ the sweet young man.

 

Percival gathers his composure. First things first, dry and feed the kid. Whatever came next, they would deal with it later.

 

He goes through the motions of preparing biscuits and tea. Then he puts everything on a tray and heads to the bedroom.

 

Percival nearly drops the tray.

 

Credence is kneeling _naked_ at the foot of the bed. His hands are planted firmly on the frame and the belt is carefully laid out behind him. It is clear from the welts that litter his back that he expects some form of beating.

 

"Credence? Why are you kneeling?"

 

"I thought you'd like to hurt me before -" Credence doesn't finish the sentence, he only looks at the bed with a curious expression.

 

Percival turns and places the tray down harsher than he means to. The rattle of chinaware makes the young man flinch.

 

It wouldn't have been so bad, Percival reflects, if the young man had shown some idea that things weren't supposed to be this way. Rebellion, resignation, all that would indicate that Credence at least _knew_ that things weren't like this for normal people.

 

Instead, he seemed to just accept the fact that Percival was probably going to whip him bloody before fucking him on the bed.

 

"Credence, I'm not going to hurt you-" Percival starts.

 

Credence rises from the foot of the bed and then crawls onto the bed.

 

He knows exactly what he's doing. He stretches his body over the sheets, pulls the pillow towards his hips, then coyly looks at Percival from under his lashes.

 

Percival remembers that not half an hour ago, he had watched the water drip from those same lashes, and had climaxed down the throat of a young man half his age.

 

"Mr. Graves, won't you let me please you?" Credence asks.

 

The boy will be the death of him, Percival decides.

 

But no, as much as he's tempted by the wide expanse of white skin, marred by red welts; as much as he's tempted to nibble those pink lips and lick into that sweet mouth, or mount the gentle curve of his rounded ass, Percival is still a _responsible_ Maj.

 

"Lie down," Percival instructs. Credence complies, closing his eyes. Percival reaches under the bed instead, withdrawing his case. He doesn't keep many things in his household, but every Wizard at least has some Soothing Balm, just in case.

 

He spreads the cream generously over Credence's abused back. The young man gasps when the cold touches his back, then when it warms to his skin, Credence lets out a soft moan.

 

Percival bites his lip.

 

Credence squirms when Percival slides his hands across the welts.

 

"Sir?"

 

"I don't want you hurting," Percival says quickly. Credence settles down and doesn't say anything else. Percival works quickly and quietly, massaging the concoction into bruised flesh. As the balm takes effect, the young man relaxes completely into the soft mattress, going limp and boneless. Red fades to yellow to white. Purples give way to greens and then disappear.

 

Percival pulls his hands away, hastily putting away the container.

 

A hand shoots out to stop him from getting off the bed.

 

He has no chance to protest before lips are pressed against the corner of his mouth.

 

"Let me please you, Mr. Graves, sir."

 

A warm hand presses against his groin, dipping under the waistband. It is one of the rare times that Percival's steely will fails him. He cannot stop himself from jerking forwards.

 

Credence looks surprised, then the corners of his lips perk up into a tiny smile, his confidence surging to the front. With a deft turn of his hand, he has Percival in a loose grip,

 

Would it really be so bad, giving in? After all, Percival has wanted this for some time. So what if the circumstances are a little bit different?

 

Credence is willing, or as willing as he can be. He's eager to please as well.

 

"You're hard," Credence whispers.

 

Percival pulls away long enough to shuck off his pants and shrug his shirt off.

 

Credence scoots backwards, positioning himself in the middle of the bed. Percival follows, bracketing the young man with his arms.

 

"Are you sure you want this?"

 

Credence only nods, hair ruffled by the movement against the pillow.

 

Percival kisses him.

 

The younger man's mouth is every bit as sweet and as delicious as Percival thought it would have been. He's willing, he's eager, he's enthusiastic about giving pleasure.

 

Credence's hands wander down the expanse of Percival's back, tracing patterns as they kiss lazily. His legs spread wide, one hooking around Percival's back to bring him closer. Every roll of his hips brings their hard lengths together, creating a friction that makes Percival's heart pound faster. He can feel Credence's pulse beat a rapid staccato through the thin skin of his wrists.

 

 Percival groans. He has thought of this moment for a long time. It's different from what he imagined shy, timid, Credence to be, but he'll take what he can get.

 

Credence uses his leverage to bring their bodies together again and again.

 

"In me, please," Credence pants. Percival reaches for his wand. It's been a long time since he's used any of those spells, but it comes like muscle memory. Credence gasps when slick fingers press into him and open him up.

 

He whimpers, eyes squeezed shut, whether from pain or pleasure, Percival cannot tell. He scissors his fingers, coaxing the muscle into relaxing. The other hand wraps around Credence's erection, teasing him to take his mind of the discomfort.

 

"Mr. Graves," Credence pleads.

 

Percival obliges, sinking himself into the warm and willing body.

 

The tight heat draws a groan from him. Credence whines, high and needy. He presses both hands to his face, hiding his flushed expression from Percival's eyes.

 

Every single movement of Percival's hips draws another whine, another whimper and gasp.

 

Percival commits the sight of the trembling young man to memory. Every moan and soft cry is filed away for _later_.

 

"Good boy, Credence, such a good boy," Percival whispers, rolling his hips with every thrust and pumping the hard length trapped between their bodies.

 

"May I cum, Mr. Graves?" Credence pants. One hand is braced on the headboard, the other still covering his own face. The curve of his brow, the part of his lips, Percival would like to see that again and again.

 

Percival nods.

 

"Cum for me, boy!"

 

Credence mewls as he climaxes, shuddering around Percival. The older man slows his movements, taking the time to enjoy the sight of the younger man trembling through his orgasm. Credence looks at him from under hooded eyes, a ghost of a curve on his mouth. His hair has been thoroughly messed up.

 

Percival surges forward, captures those lips in a kiss and snaps his hips forward. Credence yelps, over sensitized from his orgasm, but he doesn't protest the rougher treatment. Instead, he pants out a soft litany of 'Yes Mr. Graves, feels good Mr. Graves'!

 

There are a million reasons why Percival should have never taken this young man under his wing, or accepted the offer of sex. He can't remember a single one right now.

 

"My beautiful boy," he growls.

 

"Yours," Credence agrees "Yours, sir."

 

Percival sinks his teeth into the tender flesh of Credence's shoulder as he climaxes. The solid iron taste of blood slides over his tongue. Credence is gasping, his hand on Percival's neck, pulling him closer.

 

Percival pulls away slowly, disengaging from Credence. The young man pouts a little when he has to let go.

 

"Never felt that good before," Credence says, completely unbothered by the fact that Percival left a bite on his shoulder. Percival wants to hunt down every single person who dared touch him without giving pleasure in return, and hurt them.

 

"It should always feel that good, or better," Percival informs him. Credence looks surprised at his emphatic statement, blush creeping over his cheeks and neck again.

 

"I should go," Credence says, rolling onto his side and trying to get up from the bed "I don't want to bother you anymore Mr. Graves."

 

Percival catches hold of his arm, then pulls him around so that they're face to face.

 

"Stay," Percival says. Credence looks like he wants to protest.

 

"Please."

 

Credence looks surprised, but he acquiesces, sitting back down and pulling his legs up onto the bed.

 

"No one ever asks me to stay," he said quietly.

 

"I'm not 'no one', am I?" Percival asks. Credence ducks his head, a shy smile creeping over his face.

 

"I guess not."

 

He lets himself be drawn into an embrace, falling asleep soon after.

 

Percival stares up at the ceiling. There are so many way this could go wrong. But he'll think about them tomorrow.

 

This is enough for tonight.

 

 


End file.
